Declaratives
by Bunny Bumpkins
Summary: Oh, the great lessons Big Brother France teaches Little America… It's bound to make England cross. • • ― England / Kid!America. TWT. Super Fluffy.


**(A/N):** This fic is meant to be read in ½ alignment.

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» ** d e c l a r a t i v e s** «

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_Oh, the great lessons Big Brother France teaches Little America…  
It's bound to make England cross.  
― __England / Kid!America ; T W T . Super Fluffy. ―_

• • ― ― ― » E n g l a n d / A m e r i c a « ― ― ―• •

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"Ah! Big Brother France!" a small blonde boy yelped.

He scampered over towards a gorgeous man with his new leather shoes, which made click-clacks against the floorboards.

"Well if it isn't my Little America," France replied in his usual deep, alluring voice. He grinned down at the blonde youngster as he stooped down to the little boy's eye-level. "How has England being doing, mm?"

"I've been taking good care of him, just like you told me to!" Alfred replied avidly.

"That's good, that's good."

As England entered the room with a small wooden tray of scones, the first thing he saw was a hedonistic grin plastered across France's face as he patted innocent America's small head. His thick eyebrows immediately furrowed and he set the platter down with a loud thump.

"G-Get away from him!" England cried, scuttling over to the two and swatting France's hands away from Alfred's head. "I don't want your dirty hands on him!"

With England already seeing through his ploy, France could only continue his lecherous charade by giving a nervous chuckle and a shrug of his shoulders.

"Dear, dear England, I have no use of taking Alfred from you," he joked.

There was a glint in France's eyes before he continued.

"Even though he _is _rightfully mine."

"'Rightfully yours'!" England repeated with a snort as he held America's head. "Pah! Fiddlesticks!"

"E-England," Alfred mumbled from beneath England's clutch, "Do you hate Big Brother France?"

"Yes, yes indeed! Do you hate me?" France sneered. He clearly was using the toddler's question as a way of teasing his longtime rival.

England glared at France fiercely. Then, swallowing his pride, he turned to look down into the little boy's innocent eyes.

"No, I guess I don't hate him…_that_ much."

With that, England released his grasp on Alfred and started towards the kitchen.

"I guess I'll go make some tea, then. Keep France company, Alfred."

France couldn't resist a snicker as he waved England off to the kitchen like a maid. Then he turned his attention to the little country, who had plopped himself atop a dark green couch swinging his legs back, bored.

Suddenly, an impish grin crossed France's lips.

"Say, Alfred," France began, "Why don't I teach you something to say when you go to bed tonight? Would you like that?"

"I don't know," an uninterested Alfred replied, his eyes still fixated on his swinging skinny legs. "Is it something interesting?"

"_Oh yes_. Something _very_ interesting."

France's emphasis on certain words made Alfred look up inquisitively.

"What do I have to say?"

"Oh, nothing too much to remember. Here, let's practice it, okay?"

France briskly stepped over Alfred's frail legs and took a seat next to him on the couch. He leaned his head down to the little country's ears. Alfred cringed from the tickle of the Frenchman's aftershave pressing against his earlobes.

"Now, here's what you have to say…"

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After France had left for the night (he had stayed longer than what England would've wanted), it was time for bed. Exhausted from cleaning all the dishes by himself and without Alfred's help and was finally able to relax. As usual, Alfred had used the old excuse of "I'm entertaining the guests!" as a way to escape from doing mutual chores around the house. England sighed as he tiredly took off his shirt and lumbered into bed, yawning. He wiggled into his bed covers and turned to the side to shut off the lamp when he saw a small figure standing outside his bedroom's doorway.

Alarmed, England immediately took his hand away from the lamp and forced his body upright to get a better look.

"Alfred? Shouldn't you be in bed already?"

England blinked his eyes to make sure this wasn't a dream.

"Yeah, I know."

"Well go back, then."

"But…I'm _scared_."

"Of what?"

"The gargoyles."

"The what?"

"France said there are these stone monsters called gargoyles that come alive at night and feed on children! And-! And-! He said that there were some near here and that they'd be after me! And-! And-! And…-!"

"Alright, alright, come in," England grumbled.

He patted the empty side of his bed, gesturing the young country to settle next to him.

Alfred smiled and scrambled up onto the bed next to England.

"But after tonight, no more sleeping in my bed, all right?"

"Okay."

Although both knew that this wasn't going to be the last time. No matter how many times England forewarned Alfred, the little country knew his fatherly figure would always cave in.

"That stupid Frenchman," England grumbled as he puffed up his pillow. "Putting those grimy ideas into…"

His voice trailed off at the sight of Alfred mimicking him as the small boy fluffed his pillow with his small hands.

"…Alfred? What are you doing?"

"I'm fluffing my pillow like you."

"But…why?"

"Why _not_?" the boy pressed.

England flinched at the boy's sudden emphasis. When did he get so…feisty?

"Well whatever suits your fancy," he mumbled as he shifted beneath the covers. "I'm turning off the light now."

After a small click, the room was completely dark, let alone for a small stream of moonlight that shone through the window.

With a final pull of the covers, England shut his eyes.

Alfred, however, remained awake and blinked in the darkness.

Crickets chirped outside in the garden while a hush of wind swept past the house and gently shook the window's frames.

No sign of the gargoyles.

…Yet.

"England."

There was a small groan from the Brit before he unwillingly turned to face the little country.

"What is it?" he asked through exasperated lips.

"I think I can hear them outside."

"Hear what?"

"The _gargoyles_."

"Oh Alfred, get a hold of yourself. There are no such things as-!"

Suddenly England felt a small body come swimming through the sheets of the bed and bury its head in his chest. When he looked down, he saw a petrified child cling to him.

He awkwardly placed his hand atop the small boy's head.

"I-It's…all right," the Englishman stuttered. He was clearly uncomfortable with giving affection. "I'm sure they'll…uh…go away soon."

"Do you really think so?" Alfred cried, turning to look up at England's face in the darkness.

"Uh, sure. Yes."

To England's surprise, Alfred got up on his knees to give him a hug. The small boy wrapped his scrawny arms around England's neck. He then pressed his face onto England's warm shoulder and closed his eyes, relieved.

Again presented with another awkward affectionate moment, England patted Alfred's back in an uneven rhythm.

All this "cheering up" business was getting harder and harder to deal with. Love and compassion were such foreign topics in England's agenda…

As England continued to pat Alfred's back, Alfred raised his head from England's shoulder. With one arm still wrapped around the Englishman's neck, Alfred used the other to gently turn England's face to look at him.

Speechless, England stared into Alfred's naïve blue eyes. Although England would've instinctively knocked Alfred away from his face, he was too shocked and confused at the moment to even move.

He was frozen, paralyzed, stationary.

All he could focus on was Alfred's entrancing eyes, which almost seemed to glow in the moonlight.

After a small wave of silence, England saw the little country's lips move ever so slowly as they mouthed three words.

**"I love you."**

He was speechless, dazed, dumbfounded.

"…W-What?" he managed to mumble. He was still daunted by Alfred's abrupt confession.

"I said I love you," Alfred reiterated.

The small boy tilted his head to the side, a bit confused why England reacted the way he did.

Suddenly England's senses managed to return and he could feel Alfred's warm fingers touching his cheek. He instinctively swatted the boy's fingers off his face and scooted away until he reached the edge of his bed.

"Y-You don't have to say it _**THAT**_ bluntly!" England cried. He grabbed a couple wads of sheets as a way to release his stress, shock, and utter surprise. "A-And besides, you're still so young so that doesn't mean anything! Y-Yeah, that's right! I-It doesn't mean…a thing…!"

England was beginning to mumble aloud and laugh off the ordeal, which made Alfred even more confused with each utterance.

"But I _do_ love you," Alfred persisted. He started to crawl over towards England once more, this time on all fours.

England immediately scrambled off the bed.

"D-Don't come any closer!" England hollered. "T-This is just so-!"

"France said you would get off the bed."

Silence.

"France…said _what_?"

"He said you would get off the bed," Alfred repeated. He pulled his legs closer to his body and put his head on his tiny knees. "Why do I have to keep repeating what I said before?"

England broke out into a cold sweat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

"So France told you to say that? To me?"

"Yeah," the little American said with a chuckle. "He said it would be something interesting to do."

"And the gargoyles. Were you really scared of them?"

"Nope." He paused before adding, "Well at first I was scared, but then Big Brother France said they weren't actually real. I just had to act like they were real in front of you so that I could-!"

England was already gone.

He didn't have time to hear the rest of innocent boy's explanation. Instead, he was making his way to his office, where he would make a phone call to a certain someone with a certain sense of bad humor.

"England?" Alfred called.

He hopped off the bed and stepped out into the corridor.

"England…?"

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**-END**

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_And so goes the tale of Big Brother France's teachings.  
Too bad the anime doesn't have more of Kid!America and England moments..._

_**Review please?**__** Any sort of constructive criticism and/or opinion is welcomed.**_


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